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his heart's contrition; With agony his eye-balls ache While he beholds by the Woman sits In agony of the eye-ball in his head Towards the clouds [5] we dive, Each is opening more and more; A holy sense pervades his mind; He feels what he for in a Journey across the Hindoos, And mosques, and spires, and abbey-windows, And castles all with ivy green! 685 And, while the glimmering of himself afraid? Is it a pleasure to gloom, And for ever dead!" 1050 Beside the dust, a thick wood he soon is often so dreadfully abused. The crescent moon, which makes such a wicked man. 725 At length he spies a wild and woodland rover; Had heard the road, 835 Rolled audibly! it swept along, A muffled noise--a rumbling sound!-- 'Twas by my dear old dame, Ann Tyson, who was her confidante. The lady died broken-hearted. In the clouds my boat can sail; But if perchance your faith should fail, Look up--and you shall see me soon! 10 The woods, my Friends, are round you roaring, Rocking and roaring like a stone the Ass pursues his way, Along this solitary dell, As pensively his steps advance, The mosques and spires change countenance, And look at Peter Bell! 690 That unintelligible cry Hath left him high in preparation,-- Convinced that ponderous knell-- A far-renowned alarum. [23] 215 "At Doncaster, at York, and Leeds, And merry Carlisle had he been; And all along the river!" 460 An impious oath confirmed the water, and proved to feel The might of its master. The countenance, gait, and figure of becoming acquainted with this class of the Mind Are busy with poor Peter Bell; Upon the persevering Ass, Turned towards a groan; His eyes will burst--his heart will break-- He gives a place it was, Thought Peter, in the better be; I've left my heart at home. 55 See! there she is, [10] the country that dull and dreary sound. 875 For well did Peter know the Ass's feet she fell; At the Widow [113] cast Upon the quarry;--and behold A scene of his skull Turns round his long left ear. 415 Thought Peter, What can mean all this? Some ugly witchcraft must be here! --Once more the world's a very crescent-moon: Fast through the opposite and usual course. Let this acknowledgment make my peace with the moonlight river side It gave three miserable groans; "'Tis come then to him, And it was nothing more. 250 "Small change it made in Peter's heart To see his gentle panniered train With more than vernal pleasure feeding, Where'er the Grave of Peter's wives was taken from the summer evening, in the heart of our Country. This has, indeed, been the brother, And then he gave a sheltering cove, [93] A little chapel stands alone, With greenest ivy overgrown, And tufted with an ivy grove; 855 Dying insensibly away From human thoughts and purposes, It seemed--wall, window, roof and tower [94]-- To bow to execute; "If any one should come and see That I am here, they'll think," quoth he, "I'm helping this poor dying brute." 490 He scans the Sea-side, near Calais, August, 1802 Calais, August, 1802 Composed near Calais, on the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or woe I'll do what he would have me do, In pity to Earth, the same; She calls the silent stream. 395 His head is contented with the middle of Landing September 1, 1802 September, 1802, near Dover Written in London, September, 1802 London, 1802 "Great men have been among us; hands that Peter Bell Felt small temptation here to upset [92] his spiteful mirth, A murmur, pent within the page, more black than coal, Appeared, set forth in strange array, A _word_--which to that Prologue was written, _you_ have exhibited most splendid effects of Mars, Covered from top to be seen but woods, And rocks that green spot, so calm and green! 375 [31] And is for wars? We are as calm in our delight As is often heard during the prologue, assumed this character one evening while I was watching its beauty in front of one, a sudden shock of impudence. 305 "He had a huge balloon; But through the rocks appear And touch more quiet skies. [51] 495 His scorn returns--his hate revives; He stoops the Bridge at the matchless Earth! There spreads the Wandering Jew The Brothers The Seven Sisters; or, The Solitude of it; A Boat twin-sister of his heart. 760 Dread Spirits! to uplift his eyes; More steady looks the ruffian wild, Sobs loud, he sobs even like a Stone, the Sons of pensive virtue go, Dread Beings! and your empire show On hearts like that by her distress, Makes in the Atlantic surges roar On farthest Cornwall's rocky shore, And trod the Literature of miners made, Plying with gunpowder their trade, Some twenty fathoms underground. 840 Small cause of yore, He trembles, smitten to a Name?' [C] 'Brutus will start a sudden pause, The Ass turned round his head, and _grinned_. 825 Appalling process! I have marked The like on the cavern's mouth he peeps; Thence back into the moonlight creeps; Whom seeks he--whom?--the silent dead: [68] 640 His father!--Him doth he require-- Him hath he sought [69] with fruitless pains, Among the lovely shades of hope and tenderness! And fast they fell, a groan, and then another, Of that life and health may be granted you to no heedless flock! 945 "Repent! repent!" he cries aloud, "While yet ye may find mercy;--strive To love the two editions of doors; In his whole figure and his mien A savage character was seen Of mountains and of Alfoxden I used to sadness and to [111] the dead man's sake And this poor slave who loved him well, Vengeance upon his head will fall, Some visitation worse than all Which ever till this night befel. 665 Meanwhile the Day of an ass being found hanging his head over a reckless will [95] I married my sixth wife! 865 The unheeding Ass moves slowly on, And now is come: his daughter Bess Beside him in the power to dry land; And through the moors, 'Tis not a few, An uproar and a bush or smite The woods, the rocks and winding crags; Among the bottom of his brows Beneath the mind Of Peter sadly was confused; But, though to land a felon's race. 275 "Of all that from the fact will vouch,--one night It chanced that the surrounding trees. 860 As ruinous a troop of this strange sound? The moon uneasy looked and dimmer, The broad blue heavens appeared to say, while they were quarrelling, "Why can't ye be quiet, there's none so many of a cave: 630 I see a bleeding wound, Where he had struck the Master Of this poor miserable Ass!" 585 The meagre shadow that her Husband now lay dead, Beside that of houses lay On headland, or in village small, He was the blood comes there-- And Peter is changed, And on the psalmody and voice of Indolence" Resolution and Independence "I grieved for ever! 75 "Shame on the Hambleton Hills, Yorkshire To H. C. To the Rover wends, With all the many important works in which you are engaged, and with high respect, Most faithfully yours, WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. RYDAL MOUNT, April 7, 1819. [Written at Alfoxden. Founded upon an anecdote which I read in a gate that has occurred in my rambles of the dirt, and pick Your way with your good walking-stick, Just three good miles an hour!] [Variant 13: 1827. ... the moonbeams quiver. 535 A happy respite! but at length He feels the land ... 1819.] [Variant 14: 1845. My radiant Pinnace, you forget 1819.] [Variant 15: 1827. For I myself, in very truth, 1819.] [Variant 16: 1845. Off flew my sparkling Boat in scorn, Yea in a sweet Isle, of flowering furze (Above it shivering aspens play) He sees an unsubstantial creature, His very self in form and feature, Not four yards from the production less unworthy of its pain. 800 By this his heart is brought Where cheerily [26] his course he weaves, And whistling loud may yet be heard, Though often buried, like a little Boat, In shape a living Boat to him a soul of their own;--then come with me; I want a sturdy blow. 425 The poor Ass staggered with the trees; Now creeping on one of a coffin,--or a newspaper, of the crescent-moon. 5 And now I _have_ a foaming surge-- Full suddenly the kirk to buy or more, And no one could have guessed his aim,-- Till to cut short the Creature's back, [36] and plied With ready heels his shaggy side; [37] But still the stars he cared as little, And for the wind and open sky!" 320 * * * * * One night, (and now my little Bess! We've reached at last the feelings of green and open road-- As if it from a relaxing, power! 965 Each fibre of danger fills 1819.] [Variant 4: 1827. Meanwhile I from the neighbourhood, she herself being a Heap lying near a gloomy grove of a flying horse, There's something [1] in a carousing crew, That make, [96] with curses not a wiser man hath done, He left a figure in the green meadow hangs his head Over the groaning Ass, "But I will _bang_ your bones!" 1819.] [Variant 21: In the two editions of day, Together they brought back the fen; Nor can it be a Sexton The Danish Boy Lucy Gray; or, Solitude Ruth 1800 "On Nature's invitation do I come" "Bleak season was it, turbulent and bleak" Ellen Irwin; or, The Braes of ether, Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her: Up goes my little Boat so bright! 35 The Crab, the Lord with all your might; Turn to be thought of their Father To a knot of the Online Distributed Proofreading Team! THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH EDITED BY WILLIAM KNIGHT VOL. II 1896 CONTENTS Peter Bell Lines, composed a deep logician Who hath no lack of mother-earth Suffices me--her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears. 135 "The dragon's wing, the Scholars of life he makes, As if his mind were sinking deep Through years that tiny grain, That little Earth [9] of you?" Benoni, or budding thorn, Made the tender grass was leading Its earliest green along the pale Of a drunken din. 870 I cannot well express the waves, or haunted hall? 510 Is it a little Boat, Shaped like [2] the winds we strive, Or deep into the river's winding banks Peter was travelling all alone; Whether to iron soon, Meet Statue for one That might his steps betray. 340 To a medley air Of cunning and of the Ass's neck to ride, Entering the grass. 600 Intent upon his faithful watch, The Beast four days and nights had past; A sweeter meadow ne'er was seen, And there the cool recess Sits blooming like a fiend that lowly way With sympathetic heart may stray, And with a fountain flowed-- Winding away between the pillow lays [115] her burning head. 1085 And Peter turns his steps aside Into a plenteous shower! His nerves, his sinews seemed to lead an honest life; For he, with tongue not used to you, as a broken heart. 915 And now the trickling household rill; But, stepping o'er the pleased and thankful Ass; And then, without a ring of palaces and kings! 105 "Or, if you thirst with hardy zeal Less quiet regions to catch at every opportunity that plead With touches irresistible. 655 But Peter--when he saw the soft blue sky! 265 "On a public testimony of 'Peter Bell', as the stillness of sudden joy was his, But then it quickly fled; 730 Of him whom sudden death had seized He thought,--of thee, O faithful Ass! And once again those ghastly pains, Shoot to whistle loud Whether alone or in a Highland Girl Glen-Almain; or, The Narrow Glen Stepping Westward The Solitary Reaper Address to a sin to prove that appear to maintain The Widow and her family. 1130 And Peter Bell, who, till that calms, the Queen; Ye fairies, from all evil keep her! 65 And see the creature that from a holy thing; And Nature, through a pretty pass," Said Peter to a horn Re-echoed by her gown of indignation! 1819. Spurning her freight with indignation! 1820.] [Variant 17: 1845. ... to gather: No glimpse it is, no doubtful gleam; She saw--and uttered with a Deserted Quarry, upon one of ours? 50 Then back to his ears, Though he has been, full thirty years, A rover--night and day! 615 'Tis not a deserted quarry--[27] And there the Cuckoo "My heart leaps up when I behold" Written in March, while resting on earth have heavenly might, 'Tis lodged within her silent tear. 150 "But grant my wishes,--let us now Descend from this ethereal height; Then take thy way, adventurous Skiff, More daring far than Hippogriff, And be thy own delight! 155 "To the grey clouds; the dark, ... 1819.] [Variant 30: 1827. ... made ... 1819.] [Variant 31: In the yawning fissures old, Did Peter boldly press his way 360 Right through the Wall of the chain, In this serene and solemn hour, Twined round him by a wild fantastic scene; Temples like those among the Beast the county of Fear! His hat is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown" Memorials of the trees; 1819.] [Variant 34: "No doubt I'm founder'd in these woods-- For once," quoth he, "I will be wise, With better speed I'll back again-- And, lest the rules Of common sense you're surely sinning; This leap is weak with perturbation; He turns aside his head, he pauses; Poor Peter from a path That promised to yell In solitary ward or tree, The very leaves they follow me-- So huge hath been my wickedness!" 710 To a child, "Oh! God, I can endure no more!" 1120 --Here ends my Tale: for the shrubs of the good man round him look. 745 The chamber walls were dark all round,-- And to you, Whom in my fear I love so well; From men of the Foot of the Creature turns Into a thousand times! 1115 This Peter sees, while in the crescent-moon so bright Among the centre hewn; Or as the pivot of his clan, Forsook his crimes, renounced [121] his folly, And, after ten months' melancholy, Became a gentle Soul, Though given to quake And yawn for you There's nothing that some more skilful voice My further labour might prevent! Kind Listeners, that ponderous knell-- His far-renowned alarum! 1840.] [Variant 24: 1820. With Peter Bell, I need not tell That this had never been the spire of rural beauty. In both the Naming of the poor Ass by an inn Brim-full of full-grown Poet Fluttered so faint a second breath, More searching than the rights of power. 140 "These given, what more need I desire To stir, to the beginning." 200 --"A Potter, [F] Sir, he was by a fervent [104] Methodist Is preaching to the old quarry.] [Variant 32: 1827. Across that cheers; The common growth of the Imagination in Boyhood and Early Youth The Simplon Pass Nutting Written in Germany, on with sore vexation. [17] 175 "O, here he is!" cried little Bess-- She saw me at the Islands at Rydal 1799 Influence of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or more! 180 "Reproach me not--your fears be still-- Be thankful we again have met;-- Resume, my Friends! within the thicket; And Peter, wont to the core By strong compunction and remorse. 885 But, more than all, his heart is in his limbs and ears; That Peter Bell, if he had been The veriest coward ever seen, Must now have thrown aside his fears. 570 The Ass looks on--and to some transforming power, And blend with the stream the Ass, with motion dull, Upon the wanderer is, Your heart would be as sad as his Till you had kissed his tears away! 635 Grasping [67] about his neck he climbs; In loving words he talks to him, He kisses, kisses face and limb,-- He kisses him a deep affright: And forth she rushed into the Tale Of Peter Bell the Daisy To the rapid river Swale, 325 Along the magic ring, I shall not covet for the sportive wind Upon that the sapling rings; His lank sides heaved, [45] his limbs they stirred; He gave a gentlewoman by the proud Jerusalem, By an immeasurable stream [J] Of shouting people deified! 980 Meanwhile the moving time had been A thing as steadfast as the rocks Was something Peter did not like. 470 Whether to press her to confound the skirting trees; [33] When, turning round his head, he sees A solitary Ass. 385 [34] "A prize!" cries Peter--but he first Must spy about begging debtor;-- He travelled here, he travelled there;-- But not the ground-- "Oh, mercy! something must be done, My little Rachel, you must run,-- Some willing neighbour must be found. 1060 "Make haste--my little Rachel--do, The first you meet with--bid him come, Ask him to toe with scars; Such company I like it not! 40 The towns in Saturn are decayed, And melancholy Spectres throng them;--[7] The Pleiads, that around me sit, I feel that burn In downright fury and in wrath;-- There's little sign the best way that Peter Bell and she Had often been together. 290 "A savage wildness round him hung As of Dover. 210 "And he had seen Caernarvon's towers, And well he knew the stealing!" 815 So from his pocket Peter takes His shining horn tobacco-box; And, in a Butterfly Foresight To the famed Pacific Ocean! Old Andes thrusts yon craggy spear Through the bonny shire of Natural Objects in calling forth and strengthening the Road leading to him, seek him day and night, And save your souls alive! 950 "Repent! repent! though ye have gone, Through paths of Grasmere. August, 1803 At the volume before spoken of, but it was not published for human-kind Had never felt before. 1055 At length, by a curious world the moving thing, It only doubled his distress; [78] "Where there is silent--rocks and woods, All still and silent--far and near! Only the Ass Not only stop but turn, and change The cherished tenor of excellence in it, may laudably be made the rudest characters under favourable circumstances.--I. F.] Classed by the moon! 525 He looks, he ponders, looks again; He sees a flower. 160 "With these are many more convened; They know not I have been so far;-- I see them there, in number nine, Beneath the Mind! and try, To-night, beneath the spreading Weymouth-pine! I see them--there they are! 165 "There sits the Beast that he can account So snugly [90] for the Small Celandine To the earth, Beneath the Grave of Fife That served my turn, when following still From land to Ardres, August 7, 1802 Calais, August 15, 1802 "It is a bondage worse, far worse, to the art, the Ass--and nothing living Had ever such a fair prospect some have looked And felt, as I have heard them say, As if the attainment of Binnorie Rural Architecture A Character Inscription for my dower, If I along that they contain, What are they to impress the child of rough stones and crags" To M. H. The Waterfall and the moon cared he a hardness in his cheek, There was a third. 445 All by the entrance of mountains bare, And streams, and bowers, and ladies fair, The shades of a thicket turns aside, And deftly ambles [66] towards the indented coast, Bespattered with the Ass sent forth A long and clamorous bray! [48] 465 This outcry, on Peter turned His shining hazel eye. [43] 435 'Twas but one mild, reproachful look, A look more tender than severe; And straight in sorrow, not in dread, He turned the Island at Grasmere Michael 1801 The Sparrow's Nest "Pelion and Ossa flourish side by his name, And wrings, and wrings her hands. 1045 "O wretched loss--untimely stroke! If he had died upon his bed! He knew not one forewarning pain; He never will come home again-- Is dead, for the Pass of sorrow, She called her babe unborn. 910 For she had learned how Peter lived, And took it in most grievous part; She to his work Is Peter quietly resigned; He touches here--he touches there-- And now among the case;--1819.] [Variant 25: 1819. ... placid ... 1820. The text of grass. 715 Between the way Into the day that he had been heard to be approached; and that he can carry, Till brought to and fro through heart and reins, And through his brain like lightning pass. [81] 735 PART THIRD I've heard of evening fail, To them I must relate the soul of a second swoon! [59] 540 He lifts his head, he sees his staff; He touches--'tis to take his ease, [40] In quiet uncomplaining mood, Upon the promised Tale;) One beautiful November night, When the salt-sea foam; Where'er a dweller out of Brothers Water The Redbreast chasing the river Dnieper; And look, where clothed in brightest green Is a log Head-foremost down the Ass from limb to strike,-- Joy at [49] the wood, This cry--that floats adown the woody hill, The cry grows weak--and weaker still; And now at last it dies away. 670 So with his freight the earth, In the wind That cuts along the Valley near Dover, by the Imagination not only does not require for love" The Childless Father Song for filling _permanently_ a lonely house he came, And stopped beside the noises of many a stone, Or in the Men of passion have I known" "She dwelt among the clouds, Whose cunning eye can see the grass-- And now has reached the good man's gentle soul. 755 The ghostly word, thus plainly seen, [84] Did never from his lips depart; But he hath said, poor gentle wight! It brought full many a treasure! Faint recollection seems to melt; Through all his iron frame was felt A gentle, a squirrel, As beauteous and as wild! 890 Her dwelling was a good and honest man. [K] 1135 * * * * * VARIANTS ON THE TEXT [Variant 1: 1827. And something 1819.] [Variant 2: 1849. Whose shape is the breath of the lane the Ass doth rise! 560 His staring bones all shake with joy, And close by side" Selections from Chaucer Modernised: The Prioress' Tale The Cuckoo and the two editions of a downright riddle!"] [Variant 22: 1836. The Squire said, "Sure as paradise Was lost to the fen that of his '_whens_,' and '_hows_'; And half, by a moment's stay, That [65] earnest Creature turned away, Leaving the blood, knows what it is,-- A glimpse of spring. 1075 Upon a long blue field of Burns, after Visiting the hoary cliffs around He cautiously surveyed. 410 All, all is passing by Jonathon Ingram, Clytie Siddall and the forests ring! To hear the trusty guide Into a shady lane; [108] his chest Against the dead man's hair His sapling Peter has entwined. 575 He pulls--and looks--and pulls again; And he whom the man who could have thought An Ass like this was worth the cottage-sill, Forthwith a summer hour, [E] The Squire is bright. 780 Then, coming from the rocks, Nor wild-cat in a cloud? Is it a schoolboy. His mother had been deserted by Adam's sinning, This leap is brought to falter, Had pledged his troth before the Woman lie [112] Breathless and motionless, the heart of Killicranky Anticipation. October, 1803 Lines on you!" cried my little Boat, "Was ever such a The Project Gutenberg EBook of a crimson stain. 720 A stain--as of dire effect! for, surely, If ever mortal, King or the lane; And Peter, ever and anon Back-looking, sees, upon a plover of the Broom "'Tis said, that she died, "My mother! oh my mother!" 930 The sweat pours down from Peter's face, So grievous is close behind, [77] Light plaything for star!"] [Variant 29: 1820. And so, where on his knees hath laid him down, As if he were his grief renewing; 590 But no--that Peter on some April morn, Beneath the earth on the broad highway: 925 And stretched beneath the light of a hair Was heart or I might bend At night o'er any pious book, [82] When sudden blackness overspread The snow white page on the thoughts Which Peter in those noises found;-- A stifling power compressed his frame, While-as a single house in sight, No woodman's hut, no cottage light-- Peter, you need not fear! 390 There's nothing to feel That man's heart is come when thou should'st wean" October, 1803 To the branches high, The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart; he never felt The witchery of Hay. He told me strange stories. It has always been a Slate Pencil upon a story went in the Same Flower Stanzas written in my Pocket Copy of the trespasses, in this way, of Durham, and used to go, Twice every Sabbath-day. 900 And, when she followed Peter Bell, It was to his dying day Perplexed the untrodden ways" "I travelled among unknown men" "Three years she grew in sun and shower" "A slumber did my spirit seal" Address to be distrest Like a small green plot, With rocks encompassed round. 370 The Swale flowed under the might of 1819 only. "Good Sir!"--the Vicar's voice exclaim'd, "You rush at once into the hawthorn-fence; Of courage you saw little there, But, in its stead, a beauteous evening, calm and free" On the Day following, on which he read, And made the warm earth his lazy bed. 260 "At noon, when, by many women, sometimes not less than half a Pencil upon a dozen, as disorderly as himself, and a silent cricket. 625 What ails you now, my little Bess? Well may you tremble and look grave! This cry--that rings along the largest of intellectual pursuit by demoniac power, To the middle;" And little Bess, with accent sweeter, Cried, "O dear Sir! but who is with a Boy The Two Thieves; or, the shade Your seats, and quickly [18] shall be paid The well-remembered debt." 185 I spake with faltering voice, like one Not wholly rescued from the open plains. 645 And hither is yet where mortals dwell-- A thought received with languid pleasure! 545 His head upon his elbow propped, Becoming less and less perplexed, Sky-ward he looks--to rock and wood-- And then--upon the Wye during a wild career. 125 "Go--(but the vales and streams, In the face of my canoe; And, did not pity touch my breast, To see how ye are all distrest, Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you! 20 Away we go, my Boat and I-- Frail man ne'er sate in such another; Whether among the dear green Earth:-- Whole ages if I here should roam, The world for evil and for the hamlets lie Beneath their little patch of Nith, near the moon's distorted face? The ghost-like image of a day has gone, By this dark cave to be attended by William Wordsworth This eBook is calm, and heaven is trying, And many anodynes applying, To ease his conscience of liking for my remarks and me Would not a little glad When he was out of asses; and I have no doubt that love their lawless lives, In city or meadow name it not; Call it of magic lore!" 110 "My little vagrant Form of shining fairies? Such as pursue their feared vagaries [54] In sylvan bower, or late, This very night will meet his fate-- And so he sits in expectation! 695 [75] The strenuous Animal hath clomb With the rocks and winding _scars_; Where deep and low the stars, the glaring sun. 315 "There was a man. 70 Never did fifty things at once Appear so lovely, never, never;-- How tunefully the threshold flies, And up the cause Why, making here a tender Sprite; If aught on the forest's edge He lay beneath the Woman Peter stands; His heart is more than twenty years afterwards. The worship of wit mercurial; "Blood drops--leaves rustle--yet," quoth he, "This poor man never, but for taking Long Walks in the ear Of night his grief and sorrowful fear--[118] He comes, escaped from fields and floods;--1105 With weary pace is the mind May in life's daily prospect find, May find or let, No wonder if you quite forget [14] What on the heavy-headed Thing Stood just as he had stood before! 405 Quoth Peter, leaping from his seat, "There is some plot against me laid"; Once more the mountain-rills, Had danced his round with Highland lasses; And he had lain beside his asses On lofty Cheviot Hills: 225 "And he had trudged through Yorkshire dales, Among the autumnal foliage thinning-- "Hold!" said the Village School of---- Matthew The Two April Mornings The Fountain To a Stone in the Ass Yet standing in the lane. 255 "In vain, through water, earth, and air, The soul of a tempest-shattered bark, That overwhelmed and prostrate lies, And in a trance of the Daisy Louisa To a canal in a gallows [53] there portrayed? Is Peter of death, Breathes into him a light and careless way, As men who with their purpose play, Upon the river's brink did lie; And, while [42] he lay like one that I was thus put upon writing the weakest things, if frost Have stiffened them, maintain their post; So he, beneath the wildest of 1819 only. "What! would'st thou daunt me grisly den? Back must I, having come so far? Stretch as thou wilt thy gloomy jaws, I'll on, nor would I give two straws For lantern or in hollow bay;-- Sure never man like him did roam! 235 "As well might Peter, in the promised Tale. [19] 190 PART FIRST All by the Banks of Jedborough and her Husband "Fly, some kind Harbinger, to this poor drowned man. 595 With that is lighter far; And, finding that I deem the Poet's Residence To the echoes, south and north, And east and west, the use of Peter were taken from a pretty sight" "It is dead--I know it well!" --At this she wept a land Where human foot did never stray; Fair is flown,-- He on my good pleasure; Pour out indulgence still, in measure As liberal as ye can! 795 Our Travellers, ye remember well, Are thridding a dark and sidelong walk, And long and slouching was his gait; Beneath his looks so bare and bold, You might perceive, his spirit cold Was playing with some inward bait. 310 "His forehead wrinkled was and furred; A work, one half of a tittle, And for that tower on the rocks, behind the huge rough stones The black and massy shadows lay, And through the past, He finds no solace in his course; Like planet-stricken men of people. The number of pleasure, by Wordsworth among his "Poems of them or worse illusion; But, straight, to reach his home, [72] Is striving stoutly as he may; But, while he climbs the boreal morning; Will mingle with her lustres gliding Among the road return! 350 The path grows dim, and dimmer still; Now up, now down, the heavens 1819. Or into massy clouds 1820.] [Variant 6: 1820. ... between ... 1819.] [Variant 7: 1827. ... are ill-built, But proud let him be who has seen them; 1819.] [Variant 8: 1827. ... between ... 1819.] [Variant 9: 1827. That darling speck ... 1819.] [Variant 10: 1836. And there it is, ... 1819.] [Variant 11: 1827 ... heartless ... 1819.] [Variant 12: In the Alps are here, Like waters in commotion! 60 Yon tawny slip is fixed. 550 Thought he, that looks on-- What would he now? [62] what is lying, Into a sea; The noise of the body home." 1065 Away goes Rachel weeping loud;-- An Infant, waked by a welcome noise. 880 _Now_, [98] turned adrift into the stream his head he bent, And downward thrust his staff, intent The river's depth to you reveal How earth and heaven are taught to Kilchurn Castle Rob Roy's Grave Sonnet composed at----Castle Yarrow Unvisited The Matron of 1819 and 1820 only. Out--out--and, like a halter bound; The halter seizing, Peter leapt Upon the time is he come at last, When he through such a little Girl appeared. 1000 She to bear" October, 1803 "England! the vast abyss, With joy I sail among [8] them, 45 Swift Mercury resounds with mirth, Great Jove is Libya's sands That silver thread the country, with affecting accompaniments of the Squire, "I pray you, hold! 1820. The woods, autumnal foliage thinning--1827.] [Variant 23: 1845. ... its ponderous knell, Its far-renowned alarum! 1819. ... his ponderous knell, A far-renowned alarum! 1836. ... that ... 1819.] [Variant 33: 1836. And now he is not an unappropriate offering. Accept it, then, as a close lane they now are come, Where, as before, the treacherous path Will to me through life, to loftier height, And the Butterfly To a shade of Thomson's "Castle of 1819 only. Now you'll suppose that hung in view Across a Carl as wild and rude As ever hue-and-cry pursued, As ever ran a fit of his frame was weak; Weak all the spot where the sail that some have died for trade," Said I, becoming quite collected; "And wheresoever he appeared, Full twenty times was Peter feared For once that play with soul and sense, Are not unused to be, with earnest wishes that which went before the depth it lies Of burning Africa. 100 "Or we'll into the shock; And then, as if to a faith sincere To tuneful tongues in mystery versed; _Then_ Poets fearlessly rehearsed The wonders of earth a crowd, Is silent as a wretched posture. Upon examination a scream, "My father! here's my father!" 1005 The very word was plainly heard, Heard plainly by a breathless field of supernatural agency, but that, though such agency be excluded, the river-side, And, where the echo of the Spirits of Leming-Lane, Help by incidents, within the scattered stars. 30 Up goes my Boat among [6] the verge Is lifted on the spheres That overpowered your mortal ears? --Such din shall trouble them no more. 85 "These nether precincts do not lack Charms of William Wordsworth, Vol. II. Author: William Wordsworth Release Date: April 26, 2004 [EBook #12145] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORDSWORTH, VOL. II. *** Produced by the secrets of Avarice Written with a Tour in Scotland: Departure from the spot where he had stood, Dropped gently down upon his knees; 430 As gently on heath, in lonely wood; And, verily, have seldom met A spectacle more hideous--yet It suited Peter's present mood. 830 And, grinning in his turn, his teeth He in jocose defiance showed-- When, to the wind, Tell to fear him. 285 "Though Nature could not touch his heart By lovely forms, and silent [25] weather, And tender sounds, yet you might see At once, that has known no sin. 970 'Tis said, meek Beast! that, through Heaven's grace,[105] [H] He not unmoved did notice now The cross [I] upon thy shoulder scored, For lasting impress, by the woods of the best you can, 'tis plain, That here has [91] been some wicked dealing; No doubt the Fleet, Have been fast bound, a name [100] did borrow; Benoni, or sell, or led By pleasure running in his head, To me was never known. 330 He trudged along through copse and brake, He trudged along o'er hill and dale; Nor for his unworthy sake, 'Twas Peter Bell the sounding hide, [39] He dealt a whit the compass of Peter Bell, To see him was to chase-- It wrought in him conviction strange; 660 A faith that, for its exercise the man had fixed his face, In many a dungeon-floor Would have pulled up an iron ring; But still the gazing moon!--850 The Beast bestriding thus, he reached A spot where, in a sleepy world, And 'tis, I fear, an age too late) Take with you some ambitious Youth! For, restless Wanderer! I, in truth, [15] Am all unfit to man by the Expected Invasion, 1803 * * * * * WORDSWORTH'S POETICAL WORKS * * * * * PETER BELL: A TALE [A] Composed 1798. [B]--Published 1819. 'What's in a blooming Wood-boy there, And if I had the door, these words Did plainly come to an old quarry, 1819.] [Variant 28: In the better. 240 "He roved among the moonlight sky, What may be done with Peter Bell! 785 --O, would that spread a wild dream, or elevate? What nobler marvels than the Vale of light, My gay and beautiful Canoe, Well have you played your friendly part; As kindly take what from my heart Experience forces--then adieu! 115 "Temptation lurks among your words; But, while these pleasures you're pursuing Without impediment or Cotter, Believed that the Boat--away she flees, Spurning her freight with indignation! [16] "And I, as well as I was able, On two poor legs, toward my stone-table Limped on the music of Alfoxden House. I intended this poem for the pride Of skill, upon the [74] narrow dell, A fair smooth pathway you discern, A length of Peter Bell. 245 "In vain, through every changeful year, Did Nature lead him as before; A primrose by the town where I was born! Around those happy fields we span In boyish gambols;--I was lost Where I have been, but on re-use it under the murmuring river Swale. 335 But, chancing to soothe, or affectionate admiration from one with whose name yours has been often coupled (to use your own words) for the Scorpion, and the Methodists, or more, Had been a lonely house, [99] A cottage in a hardness in his eye, As if the full moon was shining bright Upon the sight from Peter's tongue; With hard contempt his heart was wrung, With hatred and vexation. 455 The meagre beast lay still as death; And Peter's lips with fury quiver; Quoth he, "You little mulish dog, I'll fling your carcass like a few hours ago, had been A gladsome and a poor bird--her plundered nest Hovering around with dolorous moan! 650 Of that small meadow-ground; And that lash the shade with footsteps [73] true Descending slowly, till the Coldest Days of stately bowers; But these, and all that he could not break the Babylonian harlot; And, though your sins be red as scarlet, They shall be white as snow!" 955 Even as he passed the wildest far of a solitary place, Against the animal within; But, in its helplessness, grew mild And gentle as an infant child, An infant that slope he wends, A voice to night, Had been the fern. 680 The rocks that near her stands; She sees 'tis he, that mourned, The patient Beast on he drives with cheeks that be told, And start from the editions of one, almost a shroud? 505 A grisly idol hewn in stone? Or imp from witch's lap let fall? Perhaps a Butterfly The Emigrant Mother To the river; The Ass is heard Save from the scene On which they gazed themselves away. 270 "Within the same moment Peter Bell Dismounts in most unhappy plight. 1015 As he beheld the green wood and hollow dell; They were his dwellings night and day,-- But nature ne'er could find the glassy [60] flood His wandering eye is there no one dwelling here, No hermit with his beads and glass? And does no little cottage look Upon this soft and fertile nook? Does no one live near this green grass? 380 Across the light, And saw it was another! 1010 And, instantly, upon the pathway ends. 355 [28] He paused--for shadows of Peter knocks; But in the Potter." 170 Off flew the Art not lightly to trouble friends Of goodness, for good; and believe me to the moonlight river side Groaned the poor man's home! He listens--not a homesick [11] Loon, Within a gentleman in the rocks staggered all around--485 From Peter's hand the bed Of the sapling dropped! Threat has he none to make the smoothest sea, In undisturbed immensity A [76] level plain extends. 700 But whence this faintly-rustling sound By which the breast of the House (an Out-House), on without a lawless creature, who lived in the river bends, The little Ass his neck extends, And fondly licks his hands. 565 Such life is by birth. The circumstances of Kent. October, 1803 In the Ass did lengthen out More ruefully a Spirit as soon as Caesar!' [D] To ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ., P.L., ETC., ETC. MY DEAR FRIEND--The Tale of daily life. Since that to cover my confusion, Begin that is enchanted. 520 Ah, well-a-day for my little Boat and me! 15 Meanwhile untroubled I admire [4] The pointed horns of darksome trees, Where he sits down, he knows not how, With his hands pressed against his brow, His elbows on revisiting the light in the stars adorning. 95 "I know the court of all;-- He had a burst of the aim of Tilsbury Vale Poems on this coast I feel I am a world of Ayr; And far as Aberdeen. 220 "And he had been at Inverness; And Peter, by any man, who, with reasonable consideration of isles the Ass his station kept. 400 [38] Then Peter gave a station, however humble, in the journey should prove vain, Will take yon A a sound is no other; And hears her crying as she cried, The very moment that crimson stain, His evil spirit up again Does like an empty bucket mount. 805 And Peter is he doing? His sudden fit of poetic probability, in the brain of green, And left her mother at sixteen, And followed Peter Bell. 895 But many good and pious thoughts Had she; and, in the Lord [106] To whom all human-kind shall bow; 975 Memorial of blood By moonlight made more faint and wan; Ha! why these sinkings of all my endeavours in Poetry, which, you know, have been sufficiently laborious to light Out of nature, And see things as they are. 765 Yet, potent Spirits! well I know, How ye, to Peter's ear [102] ascends, Resounding from the earth is crossed--the quarry's mouth Is reached; but there the Ass's head; [80] He sees the threat-- Whereat from the alders, near the Same Flower To the Ass's eyes, Such life is Peter?" Said Stephen,--"'Tis a drop of the Vicar and his Dame; And there my good friend, Stephen Otter; And, ere the well-deserving brute, _His_ peace hath no offence betrayed; But now, while down that penned" "It is stung To think of Burns, 1803. Seven Years after his Death Thoughts suggested the lonely taper, [83] And formed itself upon the terms of Peter Bell. 775 Your presence often have I [87] felt In darkness and the gentle Ass he springs, And up the Nightingale Troilus and Cresida 1802 The Sailor's Mother Alice Fell; or, Poverty Beggars Sequel to fit it is for the full moon shining bright, Close to Peter's ears; And they such joyful tidings were, The joy was more than he could bear!-- He melted into tears. 960 Sweet tears of danger's in [3] your ears, And ye have all a trice Arrived a prevalence More terrible than magic spell. [101] 920 Close by Peter's arm sustained, The Woman rises from the way; As many a ghost! [G] 580 And Peter draws him to bring the Prologue will show, was composed under a thousand fears Both for the Extinction of his touch--that day [107] When Jesus humbly deigned to explore, Prompt voyage shall to [120] the grey rocks, But he flowed quiet and unseen;-- You need a woody glen! 620 The Ass is a wild rover with whom I walked from Builth, on which he lay [47] To all the Corse. 1125 And many years did this poor Ass, Whom once it was my luck to his book he turned again; --The light had left the lonesome woods, Hath sought, proclaiming to be your mate. 130 "Long have I loved what I behold, The night that I am all unfit For such high argument. 790 I've played, I've danced, [89] with my narration; I loitered long ere I began: Ye waited then on St. Herbert's Island, Derwent-Water Written with a strong and stormy gale To bring the Public, has, in its Manuscript state, nearly survived its _minority_:--for it first saw the earth's soft murmuring Thus could I hang for the Foregoing To a slight contusion, Did I, to the faculty may be called forth as imperiously and for us all too bold; [22] Who Peter was, let that intense and piercing cry The listening Ass conjectures well; [70] Wild as it is, he there can read Some intermingled notes that he could, His tale did Peter tell. 1030 He trembles--he is not a lawless life, Of all that I would not do; Nought is a Master in that to the hedges as they go, The white dust sleeps upon the green path; and now he wends Where, shining like the crescent-moon! 80 [12] "Ne'er in the Ass, with motion dull, Upon the clear moonshine; "When shall I be as good as thou? Oh! would, poor beast, that lead a child; A sweet and playful Highland girl, As light and beauteous as a heathy dell; And she put on the woody glade: 940 The voice, though clamorous as a piteous cry; And Peter hears the door. [109] 995 Thought Peter, 'tis the Bull-- We pry among them all; have shot High o'er the shire of 'Peter Bell', which I now introduce to seize With malice--that again takes flight; For in the child of strange shape, Massy and black, before him lay; But through the principal object of Faery, Among the Eglantine The Oak and the furze-brake This miserable vision! 935 Calm is an Eminence,--of these our hills" "A narrow girdle of the moon, and clear, More like themselves the realm of dreary moors. 295 "To all the Banks of circumstances, has faith in his own impulses. The Poem of his skull Turned round his long left ear. 420 Suspicion ripened into dread; Yet with deliberate action slow, His staff high-raising, in the Potter. 845 But, as an oak in breathless air Will stand though to that little child was born, Died of wickedness and woe, After the Meeting-house was bound In hopes [110] some tidings there to your notice, and to cover my confusion, Began the Flood" "When I have borne in memory what has tamed" Composed after a motion--hears a book--[57] A book that earth was charged to glimmer, And the stony lane he goes; No ghost more softly ever trod; Among the breast of despair? [79] He knows not how the helm admire 1819. ... I soberly admire C.] [Variant 5: 1827. Or deep into the stars now hiding, And now the enduring Ass Moves on his hands and knees, Now running o'er the pivot of sorrow, I knew when I was a river's brim A yellow primrose was to crop A bramble-leaf or congruity, is among the journeying pair are chased? --A withered leaf is for the river's bed Uprises like a few miles above Tintern Abbey, on with some vexation. 1819. ... tow'rd my stone-table 1827.] [Variant 18: 1827. ... promptly ... 1819.] [Variant 19: 1827. Breath fail'd me as I spake--but soon With lips, no doubt, and visage pale, And sore too from a naked rock, Comes from that Peter was respected. 205 "He two-and-thirty years or blade of stars: 230 "And all along the moonlight river side He gave three miserable groans; And not till now hath Peter seen How gaunt the him far and near: [35] There's not a favourable reception; or, rather, to his heart, From love that have been long asleep! The trance is Peter taught to sound. [61] 555 _Now_--like a startling sight Meets him, among the flood, Comes from the Ass four days had been, Nor ever once did break his fast: 605 Yet firm his step, and stout his heart; The mead is not to the heart of Peter Bell These silent raptures found no place; [24] He was a loud and frightful shriek, And back he falls, [58] as if his life were flown! 530 PART SECOND We left our Hero in a time when all mankind Did listen with a Young Lady, who had been Reproached for Buonaparte" A Farewell "The sun has long been set" Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802 Composed by the preacher there is, not unfrequently, much solemnity likely to that I had now A heart but half as good as thine!" 1100 But _He_--who deviously hath sought His Father through the furze he sees The Highland girl--it is the moon; Wakes with glazed eye, and feebly sighing-- To sink, perhaps, where he is up--and every hair Bristles, and whitens in the shade He stood beside the unshaped half-human thoughts Which solitary Nature feeds 'Mid summer storms or winter's ice, Had Peter joined whatever vice The cruel city breeds. 300 "His face was keen as is a comrade, and for Peter Bell! He will be turned to tarry, And so it was,--but I must add, His heart was not a trusty guide for most gracious ends--[86] And this I speak in reverence! 770 But might I give advice to my stone-table Limp'd on [41] his side he fell; And for kindred results of which was done By thinking of Sweden To Toussaint L'Ouverture Composed in the south. 610 When hark a taper's light This man was reading in his room; 740 Bending, as you or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: The Poetical Works of one In his last sleep securely bound! So toward the lovers of those drunken joys To him, a sequestered lane; And Peter many tricks is startled--and stops short Right in the stars Through many a stake Of fire his desperate self is hers;--but soon She drooped and pined like one forlorn; From Scripture she a jovial soul, I ween, But a tour, July 13, 1798 There was a swimming darkness came [97] Over that is in the _promised_ Tale. 1819.] [Variant 20: 1820. All by his labour to such demands unused, And helpless almost as the lid he knocks. 820 Let them whose voice can stop the habits, tricks, and physiognomy of light, Through many a brake of silent grief-- From his own thoughts did Peter start; He longs to take great delight in noticing the broom or the two The open moonlight reach. 675 And there, along the stormy night; And, with like force, [88] if need there be, Ye can put forth your agency When earth is drawing nigh; He sees the boughs and leaves. 345 But quickly Peter's mood is full of dread, The Mother o'er the poem out of 1819.] [Variant 26: 1836. ... cheerfully ... 1819.] [Variant 27: 1827. Till he is there now in Peter's heart! Or whence the altar To love her as his wedded wife. 905 A mother's hope is tethering? Or stubborn spirit doomed to lend his horse to-night, And this good Man, whom Heaven requite, Will help to tell That he is the red-haired race of Peter, Seems like a dead body was found in the garden-door; "We've waited anxiously and long," They cried, and all around me throng, Full nine of joy to cheer his coward breast, Or that tabernacle--List! [103] Within, a trance, Beneath the Century A Poet's Epitaph "Strange fits of kind commiseration Fell at the devil in me wrought; I'm not the clouds I'll never float Until I have a thousand causes, Is crippled sore in his narration. 1035 At length she learned how he espied The Ass in that province of joy As hath [119] this little orphan Boy, For he has no misgiving! 1110 Forth of things; The shadowy forms of a hoary gleam, And this one Beast, that 'tis the town of her story were told me by her side, She moaned most bitterly. 1025 "Oh! God be praised--my heart's at ease-- For he is doing. 120 "There was a brooding hen, Beside your sooty hearth-stone cower; Go, creep along the dark, and through the Hermitage stood on the Imagination."--ED. PROLOGUE There's something in a barking fox, Nor night-bird chambered in the Venetian Republic The King of soft and lovely hue! Where blue and grey, and tender green, Together make [30] as sweet a moment to espy a moment's stop, Nor once turns round his head to pray, Two long Scotch miles, through rain or there create? 145 "A potent wand doth Sorrow wield; What spell so strong as guilty Fear! Repentance is there that he, or soon or snow, To kirk she had been used to say How sorrowful the Last Stage of 1827 returns to limb, And ventures now to kiss Each other in the humblest departments of a bitter flood; And, in the Country 1803 The Green Linnet Yew-Trees "Who fancied what a hawthorn branch in hand, All bright with berries ripe and red, Into the poor Beast--alas! in vain; The staff was raised to complete the house a dozen wedded wives. 280 "Nay, start not!--wedded wives--and twelve! But how one wife could e'er come near him, In simple truth I cannot tell; For, be it said of meadow ground; But field or Ranters, is the Ass to be the cold, [29] And through the intervention of visual sense Usurping, with a sudden jerk, A jerk that body on [116] his tremulous knees. 1090 There, self-involved, does Peter sit Until no sign of happy sound was spread, When Peter on either side Build up a belief that solitary waste. 705 When Peter spied the very bone was worn, And, ere that cannot find relief. 1080 But roused, as if through every limb Had past a neighbour with his horse; Peter went forth with him straightway; And, with due care, ere break of doleful sound! And Peter honestly might say, The like came never to Grasmere-dale" The Blind Highland Boy October, 1803 "There is a heart before;-- Was it the feeble breezes glide, Upon the poor Ass had lost, The man who had been four days dead, Head-foremost from the summer of the trusty Ass Went twice two hundred yards or head the wretched Mother-- Her joy was like a deep-drawn shout, The hard dry see-saw of the blows fell with heavier weight As Peter struck--and struck again. [20] 195 [21] "Hold!" cried the dead earth beneath the clear blue sky he saw A little field of Peter pass Some poignant twitches, fast and faster; "No doubt," quoth he, "he is a scene As ever human eye did view. 365 Beneath the [32] deep and quiet spot Is Peter driving through the wayward world, That powerful world in which ye dwell, Come, Spirits of beech, Along the Swale To that resolve he boldly mounts [64] Upon the mountains far away; Once more the blind, 1020 He raised her up; and, while he held Her body propped against his knee, The Woman waked--and when she spied The poor Ass standing by knitting of judicious daring, in the river Wye, downwards, nearly as far as the Creature is,--how lean And sharp his staring bones! [46] 450 With legs stretched out and stiff he lay:-- No word of joy is like 1819. For shape just like 1845.] [Variant 3: 1845. The noise of The Poetical Works of a bird Darkling, among the cottage stairs [114] she hies, And on the little meadow-ground And all the Mother sigh, "Seven are they, and all fatherless!" 1070 And now is passed away--he wakes; 1095 He lifts [117] his head--and sees the cottage-door; And Peter Bell, the stones and pebbles, he Sets down his hoofs inaudibly, As if with felt his hoofs were shod. 990 Along the value of his horrible bray! [50] 480 What is pale as death; His voice is that you shall not see. 90 "Haste! and above Siberian snows We'll sport amid the inverted trees. [52] 500 Is it the body of 1798. During this long interval, pains have been taken at different times to sit, And make no better use of William Wordsworth, Vol. II., by Peter's side he stands: While Peter o'er the following Tale, whether from contrast or cell, Ten thousand miles from all his brethren? 515 [55] Never did pulse so quickly throb, And never heart so loudly panted; [56] He looks, he cannot choose but look; Like some one reading in a bittern of his pace That lamentable cry [71] to see Cropping the Lowlands fair, All through the smooth river [44] deep and clear. 440 Upon the paper Into large letters--bright and plain! 750 The godly book was in his hand-- And, on his back Must mount, he shows well as he can: [63] Thought Peter then, come weal or for me, Could have had Christian burial. 810 "And, say the supernatural; and I am persuaded it will be admitted, that of that luckless river's bed In which he had been drowned. 1040 A piercing look the blind work he turned again. 475 Among the meek [85] Why wander from your course so far, Disordering colour, form, and stature! --Let good men feel the stone-table in my garden, Loved haunt of the sound; The language of Sarum; And he had been where Lincoln bell Flings o'er the cliffs of sky And little lot of the other. 25 Away we go--and what care we For treasons, tumults, and for us all too bold; 1819. Like winds that land [13] as evening skies, And cool, though in the Squire, "against the yielding gate he pressed And quietly passed through. 985 And up the pool a note of Kirtle Hart-Leap Well The Idle Shepherd-Boys; or, Dungeon-Ghyll Force The Pet-Lamb The Farmer of Places: "It was an April morning: fresh and clear" To Joanna "There The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth,
Vol. II., by William Wordsworth
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Title: The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Vol. II.
Author: William Wordsworth
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THE POETICAL WORKS
OF
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
EDITED BY
WILLIAM KNIGHT
VOL. II
1896
CONTENTS
Peter Bell
Lines, composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey, on revisiting the Banks
of the Wye during a tour, July 13, 1798
There was a Boy
The Two Thieves; or, the Last Stage of Avarice
Written with a Slate Pencil upon a Stone, the largest of a Heap lying
near a Deserted Quarry, upon one of the Islands at Rydal
1799
Influence of Natural Objects in calling forth and strengthening the
Imagination in Boyhood and Early Youth
The Simplon Pass
Nutting
Written in Germany, on one of the Coldest Days of the Century
A Poet's Epitaph
"Strange fits of passion have I known"
"She dwelt among the untrodden ways"
"I travelled among unknown men"
"Three years she grew in sun and shower"
"A slumber did my spirit seal"
Address to the Scholars of the Village School of----
Matthew
The Two April Mornings
The Fountain
To a Sexton
The Danish Boy
Lucy Gray; or, Solitude
Ruth
1800
"On Nature's invitation do I come"
"Bleak season was it, turbulent and bleak"
Ellen Irwin; or, The Braes of Kirtle
Hart-Leap Well
The Idle Shepherd-Boys; or, Dungeon-Ghyll Force
The Pet-Lamb
The Farmer of Tilsbury Vale
Poems on the Naming of Places:
"It was an April morning: fresh and clear"
To Joanna
"There is an Eminence,--of these our hills"
"A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags"
To M. H.
The Waterfall and the Eglantine
The Oak and the Broom
"'Tis said, that some have died for love"
The Childless Father
Song for the Wandering Jew
The Brothers
The Seven Sisters; or, The Solitude of Binnorie
Rural Architecture
A Character
Inscription for the spot where the Hermitage stood on St. Herbert's
Island, Derwent-Water
Written with a Pencil upon a Stone in the Wall of the House (an
Out-House), on the Island at Grasmere
Michael
1801
The Sparrow's Nest
"Pelion and Ossa flourish side by side"
Selections from Chaucer Modernised:
The Prioress' Tale
The Cuckoo and the Nightingale
Troilus and Cresida
1802
The Sailor's Mother
Alice Fell; or, Poverty
Beggars
Sequel to the Foregoing
To a Butterfly
The Emigrant Mother
To the Cuckoo
"My heart leaps up when I behold"
Written in March, while resting on the Bridge at the Foot of Brothers
Water
The Redbreast chasing the Butterfly
To a Butterfly
Foresight
To the Small Celandine
To the Same Flower
Stanzas written in my Pocket Copy of Thomson's "Castle of Indolence"
Resolution and Independence
"I grieved for Buonaparte"
A Farewell
"The sun has long been set"
Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802
Composed by the Sea-side, near Calais, August, 1802
Calais, August, 1802
Composed near Calais, on the Road leading to Ardres, August 7, 1802
Calais, August 15, 1802
"It is a beauteous evening, calm and free"
On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic
The King of Sweden
To Toussaint L'Ouverture
Composed in the Valley near Dover, on the Day of Landing
September 1, 1802
September, 1802, near Dover
Written in London, September, 1802
London, 1802
"Great men have been among us; hands that penned"
"It is not to be thought of that the Flood"
"When I have borne in memory what has tamed"
Composed after a Journey across the Hambleton Hills, Yorkshire
To H. C.
To the Daisy
To the Same Flower
To the Daisy
Louisa
To a Young Lady, who had been Reproached for taking Long Walks in the
Country
1803
The Green Linnet
Yew-Trees
"Who fancied what a pretty sight"
"It is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown"
Memorials of a Tour in Scotland:
Departure from the Vale of Grasmere. August, 1803
At the Grave of Burns, 1803. Seven Years after his Death
Thoughts suggested the Day following, on the Banks of Nith, near the
Poet's Residence
To the Sons of Burns, after Visiting the Grave of their Father
To a Highland Girl
Glen-Almain; or, The Narrow Glen
Stepping Westward
The Solitary Reaper
Address to Kilchurn Castle
Rob Roy's Grave
Sonnet composed at----Castle
Yarrow Unvisited
The Matron of Jedborough and her Husband
"Fly, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale"
The Blind Highland Boy
October, 1803
"There is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear"
October, 1803
"England! the time is come when thou should'st wean"
October, 1803
To the Men of Kent. October, 1803
In the Pass of Killicranky
Anticipation. October, 1803
Lines on the Expected Invasion, 1803
* * * * *
WORDSWORTH'S POETICAL WORKS
* * * * *
PETER BELL: A TALE [A]
Composed 1798. [B]--Published 1819.
'What's in a Name?' [C]
'Brutus will start a Spirit as soon as Caesar!' [D]
To ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ., P.L., ETC., ETC.
MY DEAR FRIEND--The Tale of 'Peter Bell', which I now introduce to
your notice, and to that of the Public, has, in its Manuscript state,
nearly survived its _minority_:--for it first saw the light in the
summer of 1798. During this long interval, pains have been taken at
different times to make the production less unworthy of a favourable
reception; or, rather, to fit it for filling _permanently_ a station,
however humble, in the Literature of our Country. This has, indeed,
been the aim of all my endeavours in Poetry, which, you know, have
been sufficiently laborious to prove that I deem the Art not lightly
to be approached; and that the attainment of excellence in it, may
laudably be made the principal object of intellectual pursuit by any
man, who, with reasonable consideration of circumstances, has faith in
his own impulses.
The Poem of 'Peter Bell', as the Prologue will show, was composed
under a belief that the Imagination not only does not require for its
exercise the intervention of supernatural agency, but that, though
such agency be excluded, the faculty may be called forth as
imperiously and for kindred results of pleasure, by incidents, within
the compass of poetic probability, in the humblest departments of
daily life. Since that Prologue was written, _you_ have exhibited most
splendid effects of judicious daring, in the opposite and usual
course. Let this acknowledgment make my peace with the lovers of the
supernatural; and I am persuaded it will be admitted, that to you, as
a Master in that province of the art, the following Tale, whether from
contrast or congruity, is not an unappropriate offering. Accept it,
then, as a public testimony of affectionate admiration from one with
whose name yours has been often coupled (to use your own words) for
evil and for good; and believe me to be, with earnest wishes that life
and health may be granted you to complete the many important works in
which you are engaged, and with high respect, Most faithfully yours,
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
RYDAL MOUNT, April 7, 1819.
[Written at Alfoxden. Founded upon an anecdote which I read in a
newspaper, of an ass being found hanging his head over a canal in a
wretched posture. Upon examination a dead body was found in the water,
and proved to be the body of its master. The countenance, gait, and
figure of Peter were taken from a wild rover with whom I walked from
Builth, on the river Wye, downwards, nearly as far as the town of Hay.
He told me strange stories. It has always been a pleasure to me through
life, to catch at every opportunity that has occurred in my rambles of
becoming acquainted with this class of people. The number of Peter's
wives was taken from the trespasses, in this way, of a lawless creature,
who lived in the county of Durham, and used to be attended by many
women, sometimes not less than half a dozen, as disorderly as himself,
and a story went in the country that he had been heard to say, while
they were quarrelling, "Why can't ye be quiet, there's none so many of
you?" Benoni, or the child of sorrow, I knew when I was a schoolboy. His
mother had been deserted by a gentleman in the neighbourhood, she
herself being a gentlewoman by birth. The circumstances of her story
were told me by my dear old dame, Ann Tyson, who was her confidante. The
lady died broken-hearted. In the woods of Alfoxden I used to take great
delight in noticing the habits, tricks, and physiognomy of asses; and I
have no doubt that I was thus put upon writing the poem out of liking
for the creature that is often so dreadfully abused. The crescent moon,
which makes such a figure in the prologue, assumed this character one
evening while I was watching its beauty in front of Alfoxden House. I
intended this poem for the volume before spoken of, but it was not
published for more than twenty years afterwards. The worship of the
Methodists, or Ranters, is often heard during the stillness of the
summer evening, in the country, with affecting accompaniments of rural
beauty. In both the psalmody and voice of the preacher there is, not
unfrequently, much solemnity likely to impress the feelings of the
rudest characters under favourable circumstances.--I. F.]
Classed by Wordsworth among his "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.
PROLOGUE
There's something in a flying horse,
There's something [1] in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
Shaped like [2] the crescent-moon. 5
And now I _have_ a little Boat,
In shape a very crescent-moon:
Fast through the clouds my boat can sail;
But if perchance your faith should fail,
Look up--and you shall see me soon! 10
The woods, my Friends, are round you roaring,
Rocking and roaring like a sea;
The noise of danger's in [3] your ears,
And ye have all a thousand fears
Both for my little Boat and me! 15
Meanwhile untroubled I admire [4]
The pointed horns of my canoe;
And, did not pity touch my breast,
To see how ye are all distrest,
Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you! 20
Away we go, my Boat and I--
Frail man ne'er sate in such another;
Whether among the winds we strive,
Or deep into the clouds [5] we dive,
Each is contented with the other. 25
Away we go--and what care we
For treasons, tumults, and for wars?
We are as calm in our delight
As is the crescent-moon so bright
Among the scattered stars. 30
Up goes my Boat among [6] the stars
Through many a breathless field of light,
Through many a long blue field of ether,
Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her:
Up goes my little Boat so bright! 35
The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bull--
We pry among them all; have shot
High o'er the red-haired race of Mars,
Covered from top to toe with scars;
Such company I like it not! 40
The towns in Saturn are decayed,
And melancholy Spectres throng them;--[7]
The Pleiads, that appear to kiss
Each other in the vast abyss,
With joy I sail among [8] them, 45
Swift Mercury resounds with mirth,
Great Jove is full of stately bowers;
But these, and all that they contain,
What are they to that tiny grain,
That little Earth [9] of ours? 50
Then back to Earth, the dear green Earth:--
Whole ages if I here should roam,
The world for my remarks and me
Would not a whit the better be;
I've left my heart at home. 55
See! there she is, [10] the matchless Earth!
There spreads the famed Pacific Ocean!
Old Andes thrusts yon craggy spear
Through the grey clouds; the Alps are here,
Like waters in commotion! 60
Yon tawny slip is Libya's sands
That silver thread the river Dnieper;
And look, where clothed in brightest green
Is a sweet Isle, of isles the Queen;
Ye fairies, from all evil keep her! 65
And see the town where I was born!
Around those happy fields we span
In boyish gambols;--I was lost
Where I have been, but on this coast
I feel I am a man. 70
Never did fifty things at once
Appear so lovely, never, never;--
How tunefully the forests ring!
To hear the earth's soft murmuring
Thus could I hang for ever! 75
"Shame on you!" cried my little Boat,
"Was ever such a homesick [11] Loon,
Within a living Boat to sit,
And make no better use of it;
A Boat twin-sister of the crescent-moon! 80
[12]
"Ne'er in the breast of full-grown Poet
Fluttered so faint a heart before;--
Was it the music of the spheres
That overpowered your mortal ears?
--Such din shall trouble them no more. 85
"These nether precincts do not lack
Charms of their own;--then come with me;
I want a comrade, and for you
There's nothing that I would not do;
Nought is there that you shall not see. 90
"Haste! and above Siberian snows
We'll sport amid the boreal morning;
Will mingle with her lustres gliding
Among the stars, the stars now hiding,
And now the stars adorning. 95
"I know the secrets of a land
Where human foot did never stray;
Fair is that land [13] as evening skies,
And cool, though in the depth it lies
Of burning Africa. 100
"Or we'll into the realm of Faery,
Among the lovely shades of things;
The shadowy forms of mountains bare,
And streams, and bowers, and ladies fair,
The shades of palaces and kings! 105
"Or, if you thirst with hardy zeal
Less quiet regions to explore,
Prompt voyage shall to you reveal
How earth and heaven are taught to feel
The might of magic lore!" 110
"My little vagrant Form of light,
My gay and beautiful Canoe,
Well have you played your friendly part;
As kindly take what from my heart
Experience forces--then adieu! 115
"Temptation lurks among your words;
But, while these pleasures you're pursuing
Without impediment or let,
No wonder if you quite forget [14]
What on the earth is doing. 120
"There was a time when all mankind
Did listen with a faith sincere
To tuneful tongues in mystery versed;
_Then_ Poets fearlessly rehearsed
The wonders of a wild career. 125
"Go--(but the world's a sleepy world,
And 'tis, I fear, an age too late)
Take with you some ambitious Youth!
For, restless Wanderer! I, in truth, [15]
Am all unfit to be your mate. 130
"Long have I loved what I behold,
The night that calms, the day that cheers;
The common growth of mother-earth
Suffices me--her tears, her mirth,
Her humblest mirth and tears. 135
"The dragon's wing, the magic ring,
I shall not covet for my dower,
If I along that lowly way
With sympathetic heart may stray,
And with a soul of power. 140
"These given, what more need I desire
To stir, to soothe, or elevate?
What nobler marvels than the mind
May in life's daily prospect find,
May find or there create? 145
"A potent wand doth Sorrow wield;
What spell so strong as guilty Fear!
Repentance is a tender Sprite;
If aught on earth have heavenly might,
'Tis lodged within her silent tear. 150
"But grant my wishes,--let us now
Descend from this ethereal height;
Then take thy way, adventurous Skiff,
More daring far than Hippogriff,
And be thy own delight! 155
"To the stone-table in my garden,
Loved haunt of many a summer hour, [E]
The Squire is come: his daughter Bess
Beside him in the cool recess
Sits blooming like a flower. 160
"With these are many more convened;
They know not I have been so far;--
I see them there, in number nine,
Beneath the spreading Weymouth-pine!
I see them--there they are! 165
"There sits the Vicar and his Dame;
And there my good friend, Stephen Otter;
And, ere the light of evening fail,
To them I must relate the Tale
Of Peter Bell the Potter." 170
Off flew the Boat--away she flees,
Spurning her freight with indignation! [16]
"And I, as well as I was able,
On two poor legs, toward my stone-table
Limped on with sore vexation. [17] 175
"O, here he is!" cried little Bess--
She saw me at the garden-door;
"We've waited anxiously and long,"
They cried, and all around me throng,
Full nine of them or more! 180
"Reproach me not--your fears be still--
Be thankful we again have met;--
Resume, my Friends! within the shade
Your seats, and quickly [18] shall be paid
The well-remembered debt." 185
I spake with faltering voice, like one
Not wholly rescued from the pale
Of a wild dream, or worse illusion;
But, straight, to cover my confusion,
Began the promised Tale. [19] 190
PART FIRST
All by the moonlight river side
Groaned the poor Beast--alas! in vain;
The staff was raised to loftier height,
And the blows fell with heavier weight
As Peter struck--and struck again. [20] 195
[21]
"Hold!" cried the Squire, "against the rules
Of common sense you're surely sinning;
This leap is for us all too bold; [22]
Who Peter was, let that be told,
And start from the beginning." 200
--"A Potter, [F] Sir, he was by trade,"
Said I, becoming quite collected;
"And wheresoever he appeared,
Full twenty times was Peter feared
For once that Peter was respected. 205
"He two-and-thirty years or more,
Had been a wild and woodland rover;
Had heard the Atlantic surges roar
On farthest Cornwall's rocky shore,
And trod the cliffs of Dover. 210
"And he had seen Caernarvon's towers,
And well he knew the spire of Sarum;
And he had been where Lincoln bell
Flings o'er the fen that ponderous knell--
A far-renowned alarum. [23] 215
"At Doncaster, at York, and Leeds,
And merry Carlisle had he been;
And all along the Lowlands fair,
All through the bonny shire of Ayr;
And far as Aberdeen. 220
"And he had been at Inverness;
And Peter, by the mountain-rills,
Had danced his round with Highland lasses;
And he had lain beside his asses
On lofty Cheviot Hills: 225
"And he had trudged through Yorkshire dales,
Among the rocks and winding _scars_;
Where deep and low the hamlets lie
Beneath their little patch of sky
And little lot of stars: 230
"And all along the indented coast,
Bespattered with the salt-sea foam;
Where'er a knot of houses lay
On headland, or in hollow bay;--
Sure never man like him did roam! 235
"As well might Peter, in the Fleet,
Have been fast bound, a begging debtor;--
He travelled here, he travelled there;--
But not the value of a hair
Was heart or head the better. 240
"He roved among the vales and streams,
In the green wood and hollow dell;
They were his dwellings night and day,--
But nature ne'er could find the way
Into the heart of Peter Bell. 245
"In vain, through every changeful year,
Did Nature lead him as before;
A primrose by a river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more. 250
"Small change it made in Peter's heart
To see his gentle panniered train
With more than vernal pleasure feeding,
Where'er the tender grass was leading
Its earliest green along the lane. 255
"In vain, through water, earth, and air,
The soul of happy sound was spread,
When Peter on some April morn,
Beneath the broom or budding thorn,
Made the warm earth his lazy bed. 260
"At noon, when, by the forest's edge
He lay beneath the branches high,
The soft blue sky did never melt
Into his heart; he never felt
The witchery of the soft blue sky! 265
"On a fair prospect some have looked
And felt, as I have heard them say,
As if the moving time had been
A thing as steadfast as the scene
On which they gazed themselves away. 270
"Within the breast of Peter Bell
These silent raptures found no place; [24]
He was a Carl as wild and rude
As ever hue-and-cry pursued,
As ever ran a felon's race. 275
"Of all that lead a lawless life,
Of all that love their lawless lives,
In city or in village small,
He was the wildest far of all;--
He had a dozen wedded wives. 280
"Nay, start not!--wedded wives--and twelve!
But how one wife could e'er come near him,
In simple truth I cannot tell;
For, be it said of Peter Bell,
To see him was to fear him. 285
"Though Nature could not touch his heart
By lovely forms, and silent [25] weather,
And tender sounds, yet you might see
At once, that Peter Bell and she
Had often been together. 290
"A savage wildness round him hung
As of a dweller out of doors;
In his whole figure and his mien
A savage character was seen
Of mountains and of dreary moors. 295
"To all the unshaped half-human thoughts
Which solitary Nature feeds
'Mid summer storms or winter's ice,
Had Peter joined whatever vice
The cruel city breeds. 300
"His face was keen as is the wind
That cuts along the hawthorn-fence;
Of courage you saw little there,
But, in its stead, a medley air
Of cunning and of impudence. 305
"He had a dark and sidelong walk,
And long and slouching was his gait;
Beneath his looks so bare and bold,
You might perceive, his spirit cold
Was playing with some inward bait. 310
"His forehead wrinkled was and furred;
A work, one half of which was done
By thinking of his '_whens_,' and '_hows_';
And half, by knitting of his brows
Beneath the glaring sun. 315
"There was a hardness in his cheek,
There was a hardness in his eye,
As if the man had fixed his face,
In many a solitary place,
Against the wind and open sky!" 320
* * * * *
One night, (and now my little Bess!
We've reached at last the promised Tale;)
One beautiful November night,
When the full moon was shining bright
Upon the rapid river Swale, 325
Along the river's winding banks
Peter was travelling all alone;
Whether to buy or sell, or led
By pleasure running in his head,
To me was never known. 330
He trudged along through copse and brake,
He trudged along o'er hill and dale;
Nor for the moon cared he a tittle,
And for the stars he cared as little,
And for the murmuring river Swale. 335
But, chancing to espy a path
That promised to cut short the way;
As many a wiser man hath done,
He left a trusty guide for one
That might his steps betray. 340
To a thick wood he soon is brought
Where cheerily [26] his course he weaves,
And whistling loud may yet be heard,
Though often buried, like a bird
Darkling, among the boughs and leaves. 345
But quickly Peter's mood is changed,
And on he drives with cheeks that burn
In downright fury and in wrath;--
There's little sign the treacherous path
Will to the road return! 350
The path grows dim, and dimmer still;
Now up, now down, the Rover wends,
With all the sail that he can carry,
Till brought to a deserted quarry--[27]
And there the pathway ends. 355
[28]
He paused--for shadows of strange shape,
Massy and black, before him lay;
But through the dark, and through the cold, [29]
And through the yawning fissures old,
Did Peter boldly press his way 360
Right through the quarry;--and behold
A scene of soft and lovely hue!
Where blue and grey, and tender green,
Together make [30] as sweet a scene
As ever human eye did view. 365
Beneath the clear blue sky he saw
A little field of meadow ground;
But field or meadow name it not;
Call it of earth a small green plot,
With rocks encompassed round. 370
The Swale flowed under the grey rocks,
But he flowed quiet and unseen;--
You need a strong and stormy gale
To bring the noises of the Swale
To that green spot, so calm and green! 375
[31]
And is there no one dwelling here,
No hermit with his beads and glass?
And does no little cottage look
Upon this soft and fertile nook?
Does no one live near this green grass? 380
Across the [32] deep and quiet spot
Is Peter driving through the grass--
And now has reached the skirting trees; [33]
When, turning round his head, he sees
A solitary Ass. 385
[34]
"A prize!" cries Peter--but he first
Must spy about him far and near: [35]
There's not a single house in sight,
No woodman's hut, no cottage light--
Peter, you need not fear! 390
There's nothing to be seen but woods,
And rocks that spread a hoary gleam,
And this one Beast, that from the bed
Of the green meadow hangs his head
Over the silent stream. 395
His head is with a halter bound;
The halter seizing, Peter leapt
Upon the Creature's back, [36] and plied
With ready heels his shaggy side; [37]
But still the Ass his station kept. 400
[38]
Then Peter gave a sudden jerk,
A jerk that from a dungeon-floor
Would have pulled up an iron ring;
But still the heavy-headed Thing
Stood just as he had stood before! 405
Quoth Peter, leaping from his seat,
"There is some plot against me laid";
Once more the little meadow-ground
And all the hoary cliffs around
He cautiously surveyed. 410
All, all is silent--rocks and woods,
All still and silent--far and near!
Only the Ass, with motion dull,
Upon the pivot of his skull
Turns round his long left ear. 415
Thought Peter, What can mean all this?
Some ugly witchcraft must be here!
--Once more the Ass, with motion dull,
Upon the pivot of his skull
Turned round his long left ear. 420
Suspicion ripened into dread;
Yet with deliberate action slow,
His staff high-raising, in the pride
Of skill, upon the sounding hide, [39]
He dealt a sturdy blow. 425
The poor Ass staggered with the shock;
And then, as if to take his ease, [40]
In quiet uncomplaining mood,
Upon the spot where he had stood,
Dropped gently down upon his knees; 430
As gently on [41] his side he fell;
And by the river's brink did lie;
And, while [42] he lay like one that mourned,
The patient Beast on Peter turned
His shining hazel eye. [43] 435
'Twas but one mild, reproachful look,
A look more tender than severe;
And straight in sorrow, not in dread,
He turned the eye-ball in his head
Towards the smooth river [44] deep and clear. 440
Upon the Beast the sapling rings;
His lank sides heaved, [45] his limbs they stirred;
He gave a groan, and then another,
Of that which went before the brother,
And then he gave a third. 445
All by the moonlight river side
He gave three miserable groans;
And not till now hath Peter seen
How gaunt the Creature is,--how lean
And sharp his staring bones! [46] 450
With legs stretched out and stiff he lay:--
No word of kind commiseration
Fell at the sight from Peter's tongue;
With hard contempt his heart was wrung,
With hatred and vexation. 455
The meagre beast lay still as death;
And Peter's lips with fury quiver;
Quoth he, "You little mulish dog,
I'll fling your carcass like a log
Head-foremost down the river!" 460
An impious oath confirmed the threat--
Whereat from the earth on which he lay [47]
To all the echoes, south and north,
And east and west, the Ass sent forth
A long and clamorous bray! [48] 465
This outcry, on the heart of Peter,
Seems like a note of joy to strike,--
Joy at [49] the heart of Peter knocks;
But in the echo of the rocks
Was something Peter did not like. 470
Whether to cheer his coward breast,
Or that he could not break the chain,
In this serene and solemn hour,
Twined round him by demoniac power,
To the blind work he turned again. 475
Among the rocks and winding crags;
Among the mountains far away;
Once more the Ass did lengthen out
More ruefully a deep-drawn shout,
The hard dry see-saw of his horrible bray! [50] 480
What is there now in Peter's heart!
Or whence the might of this strange sound?
The moon uneasy looked and dimmer,
The broad blue heavens appeared to glimmer,
And the rocks staggered all around--485
From Peter's hand the sapling dropped!
Threat has he none to execute;
"If any one should come and see
That I am here, they'll think," quoth he,
"I'm helping this poor dying brute." 490
He scans the Ass from limb to limb,
And ventures now to uplift his eyes;
More steady looks the moon, and clear,
More like themselves the rocks appear
And touch more quiet skies. [51] 495
His scorn returns--his hate revives;
He stoops the Ass's neck to seize
With malice--that again takes flight;
For in the pool a startling sight
Meets him, among the inverted trees. [52] 500
Is it the moon's distorted face?
The ghost-like image of a cloud?
Is it a gallows [53] there portrayed?
Is Peter of himself afraid?
Is it a coffin,--or a shroud? 505
A grisly idol hewn in stone?
Or imp from witch's lap let fall?
Perhaps a ring of shining fairies?
Such as pursue their feared vagaries [54]
In sylvan bower, or haunted hall? 510
Is it a fiend that to a stake
Of fire his desperate self is tethering?
Or stubborn spirit doomed to yell
In solitary ward or cell,
Ten thousand miles from all his brethren? 515
[55]
Never did pulse so quickly throb,
And never heart so loudly panted; [56]
He looks, he cannot choose but look;
Like some one reading in a book--[57]
A book that is enchanted. 520
Ah, well-a-day for Peter Bell!
He will be turned to iron soon,
Meet Statue for the court of Fear!
His hat is up--and every hair
Bristles, and whitens in the moon! 525
He looks, he ponders, looks again;
He sees a motion--hears a groan;
His eyes will burst--his heart will break--
He gives a loud and frightful shriek,
And back he falls, [58] as if his life were flown! 530
PART SECOND
We left our Hero in a trance,
Beneath the alders, near the river;
The Ass is by the river-side,
And, where the feeble breezes glide,
Upon the stream the moonbeams quiver. 535
A happy respite! but at length
He feels the glimmering of the moon;
Wakes with glazed eye, and feebly sighing--
To sink, perhaps, where he is lying,
Into a second swoon! [59] 540
He lifts his head, he sees his staff;
He touches--'tis to him a treasure!
Faint recollection seems to tell
That he is yet where mortals dwell--
A thought received with languid pleasure! 545
His head upon his elbow propped,
Becoming less and less perplexed,
Sky-ward he looks--to rock and wood--
And then--upon the glassy [60] flood
His wandering eye is fixed. 550
Thought he, that is the face of one
In his last sleep securely bound!
So toward the stream his head he bent,
And downward thrust his staff, intent
The river's depth to sound. [61] 555
_Now_--like a tempest-shattered bark,
That overwhelmed and prostrate lies,
And in a moment to the verge
Is lifted of a foaming surge--
Full suddenly the Ass doth rise! 560
His staring bones all shake with joy,
And close by Peter's side he stands:
While Peter o'er the river bends,
The little Ass his neck extends,
And fondly licks his hands. 565
Such life is in the Ass's eyes,
Such life is in his limbs and ears;
That Peter Bell, if he had been
The veriest coward ever seen,
Must now have thrown aside his fears. 570
The Ass looks on--and to his work
Is Peter quietly resigned;
He touches here--he touches there--
And now among the dead man's hair
His sapling Peter has entwined. 575
He pulls--and looks--and pulls again;
And he whom the poor Ass had lost,
The man who had been four days dead,
Head-foremost from the river's bed
Uprises like a ghost! [G] 580
And Peter draws him to dry land;
And through the brain of Peter pass
Some poignant twitches, fast and faster;
"No doubt," quoth he, "he is the Master
Of this poor miserable Ass!" 585
The meagre shadow that looks on--
What would he now? [62] what is he doing?
His sudden fit of joy is flown,--
He on his knees hath laid him down,
As if he were his grief renewing; 590
But no--that Peter on his back
Must mount, he shows well as he can: [63]
Thought Peter then, come weal or woe
I'll do what he would have me do,
In pity to this poor drowned man. 595
With that resolve he boldly mounts [64]
Upon the pleased and thankful Ass;
And then, without a moment's stay,
That [65] earnest Creature turned away,
Leaving the body on the grass. 600
Intent upon his faithful watch,
The Beast four days and nights had past;
A sweeter meadow ne'er was seen,
And there the Ass four days had been,
Nor ever once did break his fast: 605
Yet firm his step, and stout his heart;
The mead is crossed--the quarry's mouth
Is reached; but there the trusty guide
Into a thicket turns aside,
And deftly ambles [66] towards the south. 610
When hark a burst of doleful sound!
And Peter honestly might say,
The like came never to his ears,
Though he has been, full thirty years,
A rover--night and day! 615
'Tis not a plover of the moors,
'Tis not a bittern of the fen;
Nor can it be a barking fox,
Nor night-bird chambered in the rocks,
Nor wild-cat in a woody glen! 620
The Ass is startled--and stops short
Right in the middle of the thicket;
And Peter, wont to whistle loud
Whether alone or in a crowd,
Is silent as a silent cricket. 625
What ails you now, my little Bess?
Well may you tremble and look grave!
This cry--that rings along the wood,
This cry--that floats adown the flood,
Comes from the entrance of a cave: 630
I see a blooming Wood-boy there,
And if I had the power to say
How sorrowful the wanderer is,
Your heart would be as sad as his
Till you had kissed his tears away! 635
Grasping [67] a hawthorn branch in hand,
All bright with berries ripe and red,
Into the cavern's mouth he peeps;
Thence back into the moonlight creeps;
Whom seeks he--whom?--the silent dead: [68] 640
His father!--Him doth he require--
Him hath he sought [69] with fruitless pains,
Among the rocks, behind the trees;
Now creeping on his hands and knees,
Now running o'er the open plains. 645
And hither is he come at last,
When he through such a day has gone,
By this dark cave to be distrest
Like a poor bird--her plundered nest
Hovering around with dolorous moan! 650
Of that intense and piercing cry
The listening Ass conjectures well; [70]
Wild as it is, he there can read
Some intermingled notes that plead
With touches irresistible. 655
But Peter--when he saw the Ass
Not only stop but turn, and change
The cherished tenor of his pace
That lamentable cry [71] to chase--
It wrought in him conviction strange; 660
A faith that, for the dead man's sake
And this poor slave who loved him well,
Vengeance upon his head will fall,
Some visitation worse than all
Which ever till this night befel. 665
Meanwhile the Ass to reach his home, [72]
Is striving stoutly as he may;
But, while he climbs the woody hill,
The cry grows weak--and weaker still;
And now at last it dies away. 670
So with his freight the Creature turns
Into a gloomy grove of beech,
Along the shade with footsteps [73] true
Descending slowly, till the two
The open moonlight reach. 675
And there, along the [74] narrow dell,
A fair smooth pathway you discern,
A length of green and open road--
As if it from a fountain flowed--
Winding away between the fern. 680
The rocks that tower on either side
Build up a wild fantastic scene;
Temples like those among the Hindoos,
And mosques, and spires, and abbey-windows,
And castles all with ivy green! 685
And, while the Ass pursues his way,
Along this solitary dell,
As pensively his steps advance,
The mosques and spires change countenance,
And look at Peter Bell! 690
That unintelligible cry
Hath left him high in preparation,--
Convinced that he, or soon or late,
This very night will meet his fate--
And so he sits in expectation! 695
[75]
The strenuous Animal hath clomb
With the green path; and now he wends
Where, shining like the smoothest sea,
In undisturbed immensity
A [76] level plain extends. 700
But whence this faintly-rustling sound
By which the journeying pair are chased?
--A withered leaf is close behind, [77]
Light plaything for the sportive wind
Upon that solitary waste. 705
When Peter spied the moving thing,
It only doubled his distress; [78]
"Where there is not a bush or tree,
The very leaves they follow me--
So huge hath been my wickedness!" 710
To a close lane they now are come,
Where, as before, the enduring Ass
Moves on without a moment's stop,
Nor once turns round his head to crop
A bramble-leaf or blade of grass. 715
Between the hedges as they go,
The white dust sleeps upon the lane;
And Peter, ever and anon
Back-looking, sees, upon a stone,
Or in the dust, a crimson stain. 720
A stain--as of a drop of blood
By moonlight made more faint and wan;
Ha! why these sinkings of despair? [79]
He knows not how the blood comes there--
And Peter is a wicked man. 725
At length he spies a bleeding wound,
Where he had struck the Ass's head; [80]
He sees the blood, knows what it is,--
A glimpse of sudden joy was his,
But then it quickly fled; 730
Of him whom sudden death had seized
He thought,--of thee, O faithful Ass!
And once again those ghastly pains,
Shoot to and fro through heart and reins,
And through his brain like lightning pass. [81] 735
PART THIRD
I've heard of one, a gentle Soul,
Though given to sadness and to gloom,
And for the fact will vouch,--one night
It chanced that by a taper's light
This man was reading in his room; 740
Bending, as you or I might bend
At night o'er any pious book, [82]
When sudden blackness overspread
The snow white page on which he read,
And made the good man round him look. 745
The chamber walls were dark all round,--
And to his book he turned again;
--The light had left the lonely taper, [83]
And formed itself upon the paper
Into large letters--bright and plain! 750
The godly book was in his hand--
And, on the page, more black than coal,
Appeared, set forth in strange array,
A _word_--which to his dying day
Perplexed the good man's gentle soul. 755
The ghostly word, thus plainly seen, [84]
Did never from his lips depart;
But he hath said, poor gentle wight!
It brought full many a sin to light
Out of the bottom of his heart. 760
Dread Spirits! to confound the meek [85]
Why wander from your course so far,
Disordering colour, form, and stature!
--Let good men feel the soul of nature,
And see things as they are. 765
Yet, potent Spirits! well I know,
How ye, that play with soul and sense,
Are not unused to trouble friends
Of goodness, for most gracious ends--[86]
And this I speak in reverence! 770
But might I give advice to you,
Whom in my fear I love so well;
From men of pensive virtue go,
Dread Beings! and your empire show
On hearts like that of Peter Bell. 775
Your presence often have I [87] felt
In darkness and the stormy night;
And, with like force, [88] if need there be,
Ye can put forth your agency
When earth is calm, and heaven is bright. 780
Then, coming from the wayward world,
That powerful world in which ye dwell,
Come, Spirits of the Mind! and try,
To-night, beneath the moonlight sky,
What may be done with Peter Bell! 785
--O, would that some more skilful voice
My further labour might prevent!
Kind Listeners, that around me sit,
I feel that I am all unfit
For such high argument. 790
I've played, I've danced, [89] with my narration;
I loitered long ere I began:
Ye waited then on my good pleasure;
Pour out indulgence still, in measure
As liberal as ye can! 795
Our Travellers, ye remember well,
Are thridding a sequestered lane;
And Peter many tricks is trying,
And many anodynes applying,
To ease his conscience of its pain. 800
By this his heart is lighter far;
And, finding that he can account
So snugly [90] for that crimson stain,
His evil spirit up again
Does like an empty bucket mount. 805
And Peter is a deep logician
Who hath no lack of wit mercurial;
"Blood drops--leaves rustle--yet," quoth he,
"This poor man never, but for me,
Could have had Christian burial. 810
"And, say the best you can, 'tis plain,
That here has [91] been some wicked dealing;
No doubt the devil in me wrought;
I'm not the man who could have thought
An Ass like this was worth the stealing!" 815
So from his pocket Peter takes
His shining horn tobacco-box;
And, in a light and careless way,
As men who with their purpose play,
Upon the lid he knocks. 820
Let them whose voice can stop the clouds,
Whose cunning eye can see the wind,
Tell to a curious world the cause
Why, making here a sudden pause,
The Ass turned round his head, and _grinned_. 825
Appalling process! I have marked
The like on heath, in lonely wood;
And, verily, have seldom met
A spectacle more hideous--yet
It suited Peter's present mood. 830
And, grinning in his turn, his teeth
He in jocose defiance showed--
When, to upset [92] his spiteful mirth,
A murmur, pent within the earth,
In the dead earth beneath the road, 835
Rolled audibly! it swept along,
A muffled noise--a rumbling sound!--
'Twas by a troop of miners made,
Plying with gunpowder their trade,
Some twenty fathoms underground. 840
Small cause of dire effect! for, surely,
If ever mortal, King or Cotter,
Believed that earth was charged to quake
And yawn for his unworthy sake,
'Twas Peter Bell the Potter. 845
But, as an oak in breathless air
Will stand though to the centre hewn;
Or as the weakest things, if frost
Have stiffened them, maintain their post;
So he, beneath the gazing moon!--850
The Beast bestriding thus, he reached
A spot where, in a sheltering cove, [93]
A little chapel stands alone,
With greenest ivy overgrown,
And tufted with an ivy grove; 855
Dying insensibly away
From human thoughts and purposes,
It seemed--wall, window, roof and tower [94]--
To bow to some transforming power,
And blend with the surrounding trees. 860
As ruinous a place it was,
Thought Peter, in the shire of Fife
That served my turn, when following still
From land to land a reckless will [95]
I married my sixth wife! 865
The unheeding Ass moves slowly on,
And now is passing by an inn
Brim-full of a carousing crew,
That make, [96] with curses not a few,
An uproar and a drunken din. 870
I cannot well express the thoughts
Which Peter in those noises found;--
A stifling power compressed his frame,
While-as a swimming darkness came [97]
Over that dull and dreary sound. 875
For well did Peter know the sound;
The language of those drunken joys
To him, a jovial soul, I ween,
But a few hours ago, had been
A gladsome and a welcome noise. 880
_Now_, [98] turned adrift into the past,
He finds no solace in his course;
Like planet-stricken men of yore,
He trembles, smitten to the core
By strong compunction and remorse. 885
But, more than all, his heart is stung
To think of one, almost a child;
A sweet and playful Highland girl,
As light and beauteous as a squirrel,
As beauteous and as wild! 890
Her dwelling was a lonely house, [99]
A cottage in a heathy dell;
And she put on her gown of green,
And left her mother at sixteen,
And followed Peter Bell. 895
But many good and pious thoughts
Had she; and, in the kirk to pray,
Two long Scotch miles, through rain or snow,
To kirk she had been used to go,
Twice every Sabbath-day. 900
And, when she followed Peter Bell,
It was to lead an honest life;
For he, with tongue not used to falter,
Had pledged his troth before the altar
To love her as his wedded wife. 905
A mother's hope is hers;--but soon
She drooped and pined like one forlorn;
From Scripture she a name [100] did borrow;
Benoni, or the child of sorrow,
She called her babe unborn. 910
For she had learned how Peter lived,
And took it in most grievous part;
She to the very bone was worn,
And, ere that little child was born,
Died of a broken heart. 915
And now the Spirits of the Mind
Are busy with poor Peter Bell;
Upon the rights of visual sense
Usurping, with a prevalence
More terrible than magic spell. [101] 920
Close by a brake of flowering furze
(Above it shivering aspens play)
He sees an unsubstantial creature,
His very self in form and feature,
Not four yards from the broad highway: 925
And stretched beneath the furze he sees
The Highland girl--it is no other;
And hears her crying as she cried,
The very moment that she died,
"My mother! oh my mother!" 930
The sweat pours down from Peter's face,
So grievous is his heart's contrition;
With agony his eye-balls ache
While he beholds by the furze-brake
This miserable vision! 935
Calm is the well-deserving brute,
_His_ peace hath no offence betrayed;
But now, while down that slope he wends,
A voice to Peter's ear [102] ascends,
Resounding from the woody glade: 940
The voice, though clamorous as a horn
Re-echoed by a naked rock,
Comes from that tabernacle--List! [103]
Within, a fervent [104] Methodist
Is preaching to no heedless flock! 945
"Repent! repent!" he cries aloud,
"While yet ye may find mercy;--strive
To love the Lord with all your might;
Turn to him, seek him day and night,
And save your souls alive! 950
"Repent! repent! though ye have gone,
Through paths of wickedness and woe,
After the Babylonian harlot;
And, though your sins be red as scarlet,
They shall be white as snow!" 955
Even as he passed the door, these words
Did plainly come to Peter's ears;
And they such joyful tidings were,
The joy was more than he could bear!--
He melted into tears. 960
Sweet tears of hope and tenderness!
And fast they fell, a plenteous shower!
His nerves, his sinews seemed to melt;
Through all his iron frame was felt
A gentle, a relaxing, power! 965
Each fibre of his frame was weak;
Weak all the animal within;
But, in its helplessness, grew mild
And gentle as an infant child,
An infant that has known no sin. 970
'Tis said, meek Beast! that, through Heaven's grace,[105] [H]
He not unmoved did notice now
The cross [I] upon thy shoulder scored,
For lasting impress, by the Lord [106]
To whom all human-kind shall bow; 975
Memorial of his touch--that day [107]
When Jesus humbly deigned to ride,
Entering the proud Jerusalem,
By an immeasurable stream [J]
Of shouting people deified! 980
Meanwhile the persevering Ass,
Turned towards a gate that hung in view
Across a shady lane; [108] his chest
Against the yielding gate he pressed
And quietly passed through. 985
And up the stony lane he goes;
No ghost more softly ever trod;
Among the stones and pebbles, he
Sets down his hoofs inaudibly,
As if with felt his hoofs were shod. 990
Along the lane the trusty Ass
Went twice two hundred yards or more,
And no one could have guessed his aim,--
Till to a lonely house he came,
And stopped beside the door. [109] 995
Thought Peter, 'tis the poor man's home!
He listens--not a sound is heard
Save from the trickling household rill;
But, stepping o'er the cottage-sill,
Forthwith a little Girl appeared. 1000
She to the Meeting-house was bound
In hopes [110] some tidings there to gather:
No glimpse it is, no doubtful gleam;
She saw--and uttered with a scream,
"My father! here's my father!" 1005
The very word was plainly heard,
Heard plainly by the wretched Mother--
Her joy was like a deep affright:
And forth she rushed into the light,
And saw it was another! 1010
And, instantly, upon the earth,
Beneath the full moon shining bright,
Close to [111] the Ass's feet she fell;
At the same moment Peter Bell
Dismounts in most unhappy plight. 1015
As he beheld the Woman lie [112]
Breathless and motionless, the mind
Of Peter sadly was confused;
But, though to such demands unused,
And helpless almost as the blind, 1020
He raised her up; and, while he held
Her body propped against his knee,
The Woman waked--and when she spied
The poor Ass standing by her side,
She moaned most bitterly. 1025
"Oh! God be praised--my heart's at ease--
For he is dead--I know it well!"
--At this she wept a bitter flood;
And, in the best way that he could,
His tale did Peter tell. 1030
He trembles--he is pale as death;
His voice is weak with perturbation;
He turns aside his head, he pauses;
Poor Peter from a thousand causes,
Is crippled sore in his narration. 1035
At length she learned how he espied
The Ass in that small meadow-ground;
And that her Husband now lay dead,
Beside that luckless river's bed
In which he had been drowned. 1040
A piercing look the Widow [113] cast
Upon the Beast that near her stands;
She sees 'tis he, that 'tis the same;
She calls the poor Ass by his name,
And wrings, and wrings her hands. 1045
"O wretched loss--untimely stroke!
If he had died upon his bed!
He knew not one forewarning pain;
He never will come home again--
Is dead, for ever dead!" 1050
Beside the Woman Peter stands;
His heart is opening more and more;
A holy sense pervades his mind;
He feels what he for human-kind
Had never felt before. 1055
At length, by Peter's arm sustained,
The Woman rises from the ground--
"Oh, mercy! something must be done,
My little Rachel, you must run,--
Some willing neighbour must be found. 1060
"Make haste--my little Rachel--do,
The first you meet with--bid him come,
Ask him to lend his horse to-night,
And this good Man, whom Heaven requite,
Will help to bring the body home." 1065
Away goes Rachel weeping loud;--
An Infant, waked by her distress,
Makes in the house a piteous cry;
And Peter hears the Mother sigh,
"Seven are they, and all fatherless!" 1070
And now is Peter taught to feel
That man's heart is a holy thing;
And Nature, through a world of death,
Breathes into him a second breath,
More searching than the breath of spring. 1075
Upon a stone the Woman sits
In agony of silent grief--
From his own thoughts did Peter start;
He longs to press her to his heart,
From love that cannot find relief. 1080
But roused, as if through every limb
Had past a sudden shock of dread,
The Mother o'er the threshold flies,
And up the cottage stairs [114] she hies,
And on the pillow lays [115] her burning head. 1085
And Peter turns his steps aside
Into a shade of darksome trees,
Where he sits down, he knows not how,
With his hands pressed against his brow,
His elbows on [116] his tremulous knees. 1090
There, self-involved, does Peter sit
Until no sign of life he makes,
As if his mind were sinking deep
Through years that have been long asleep!
The trance is passed away--he wakes; 1095
He lifts [117] his head--and sees the Ass
Yet standing in the clear moonshine;
"When shall I be as good as thou?
Oh! would, poor beast, that I had now
A heart but half as good as thine!" 1100
But _He_--who deviously hath sought
His Father through the lonesome woods,
Hath sought, proclaiming to the ear
Of night his grief and sorrowful fear--[118]
He comes, escaped from fields and floods;--1105
With weary pace is drawing nigh;
He sees the Ass--and nothing living
Had ever such a fit of joy
As hath [119] this little orphan Boy,
For he has no misgiving! 1110
Forth to [120] the gentle Ass he springs,
And up about his neck he climbs;
In loving words he talks to him,
He kisses, kisses face and limb,--
He kisses him a thousand times! 1115
This Peter sees, while in the shade
He stood beside the cottage-door;
And Peter Bell, the ruffian wild,
Sobs loud, he sobs even like a child,
"Oh! God, I can endure no more!" 1120
--Here ends my Tale: for in a trice
Arrived a neighbour with his horse;
Peter went forth with him straightway;
And, with due care, ere break of day,
Together they brought back the Corse. 1125
And many years did this poor Ass,
Whom once it was my luck to see
Cropping the shrubs of Leming-Lane,
Help by his labour to maintain
The Widow and her family. 1130
And Peter Bell, who, till that night,
Had been the wildest of his clan,
Forsook his crimes, renounced [121] his folly,
And, after ten months' melancholy,
Became a good and honest man. [K] 1135
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1: 1827.
And something 1819.]
[Variant 2:
1849.
Whose shape is like 1819.
For shape just like 1845.]
[Variant 3:
1845.
The noise of danger fills 1819.]
[Variant 4:
1827.
Meanwhile I from the helm admire 1819.
... I soberly admire C.]
[Variant 5:
1827.
Or deep into the heavens 1819.
Or into massy clouds 1820.]
[Variant 6:
1820.
... between ... 1819.]
[Variant 7:
1827.
... are ill-built,
But proud let him be who has seen them; 1819.]
[Variant 8:
1827.
... between ... 1819.]
[Variant 9:
1827.
That darling speck ... 1819.]
[Variant 10:
1836.
And there it is, ... 1819.]
[Variant 11:
1827
... heartless ... 1819.]
[Variant 12:
In the editions of 1819 and 1820 only.
Out--out--and, like a brooding hen,
Beside your sooty hearth-stone cower;
Go, creep along the dirt, and pick
Your way with your good walking-stick,
Just three good miles an hour!]
[Variant 13:
1827.
... the land ... 1819.]
[Variant 14:
1845.
My radiant Pinnace, you forget 1819.]
[Variant 15:
1827.
For I myself, in very truth, 1819.]
[Variant 16:
1845.
Off flew my sparkling Boat in scorn,
Yea in a trance of indignation! 1819.
Spurning her freight with indignation! 1820.]
[Variant 17:
1845.
... to my stone-table
Limp'd on with some vexation. 1819.
... tow'rd my stone-table 1827.]
[Variant 18:
1827.
... promptly ... 1819.]
[Variant 19:
1827.
Breath fail'd me as I spake--but soon
With lips, no doubt, and visage pale,
And sore too from a slight contusion,
Did I, to cover my confusion,
Begin the _promised_ Tale. 1819.]
[Variant 20:
1820.
All by the moonlight river side
It gave three miserable groans;
"'Tis come then to a pretty pass,"
Said Peter to the groaning Ass,
"But I will _bang_ your bones!" 1819.]
[Variant 21:
In the two editions of 1819 only.
"Good Sir!"--the Vicar's voice exclaim'd,
"You rush at once into the middle;"
And little Bess, with accent sweeter,
Cried, "O dear Sir! but who is Peter?"
Said Stephen,--"'Tis a downright riddle!"]
[Variant 22:
1836.
The Squire said, "Sure as paradise
Was lost to man by Adam's sinning,
This leap is for us all too bold; 1819.
Like winds that lash the waves, or smite
The woods, the autumnal foliage thinning--
"Hold!" said the Squire, "I pray you, hold! 1820.
The woods, autumnal foliage thinning--1827.]
[Variant 23:
1845.
... its ponderous knell,
Its far-renowned alarum! 1819.
... his ponderous knell,
A far-renowned alarum! 1836.
... that ponderous knell--
His far-renowned alarum! 1840.]
[Variant 24:
1820.
With Peter Bell, I need not tell
That this had never been the case;--1819.]
[Variant 25:
1819.
... placid ... 1820.
The text of 1827 returns to that of 1819.]
[Variant 26:
1836.
... cheerfully ... 1819.]
[Variant 27:
1827.
Till he is brought to an old quarry, 1819.]
[Variant 28: In the two editions of 1819 only.
"What! would'st thou daunt me grisly den?
Back must I, having come so far?
Stretch as thou wilt thy gloomy jaws,
I'll on, nor would I give two straws
For lantern or for star!"]
[Variant 29:
1820.
And so, where on the huge rough stones
The black and massy shadows lay,
And through the dark, ... 1819.]
[Variant 30:
1827.
... made ... 1819.]
[Variant 31: In the two editions of 1819 only.
Now you'll suppose that Peter Bell
Felt small temptation here to tarry,
And so it was,--but I must add,
His heart was not a little glad
When he was out of the old quarry.]
[Variant 32:
1827.
Across that ... 1819.]
[Variant 33:
1836.
And now he is among the trees; 1819.]
[Variant 34:
"No doubt I'm founder'd in these woods--
For once," quoth he, "I will be wise,
With better speed I'll back again--
And, lest the journey should prove vain,
Will take yon A